Apt D
by overlydramatic88
Summary: Being a slacker had its work cut out for it. Do you know how many excuses i've had to come up with? How many imaginary grandparents i've killed over the years? I've had four dead grandmothers before I even knew that the one I had was actually still alive.


A/N: Original fiction! Will be continuing it, will only post upon request though. Please read and review. -Crystal

"I got fired."

Those were the words I was greeted with after a long day of sleeping through classes and tripping over an unidentified box that was uselessly placed in front of my doorway. I don't want to hear that my room-mate lost her job; I don't care if somebody touched her in an inappropriate manner and she felt the need to punch that person in their face. I don't care if she somehow managed to piss off all three customers that come into the diner she waitressed at, and then threw a hissy fit when all she got for a tip was the quarter left over from the bill.

Honestly, all I care about is paying the damn rent.

You see, as a college student who has no dreams and aspirations, my daddy-dearest will be a little perturbed if I hit him up for my _room-mate's _part of the rent in addition to my own half.

Being a slacker had its work cut out for it. Do you know how many _excuses_ i've had to come up with? How many imaginary grandparents i've killed over the years? I've had four dead grandmothers before I even knew that the one I had was actually still alive.

Nicole and I had been best friends since day one. It was our freshman year of high school; She was the skater who had introduced me to rock music, and I was the homecoming queen who introduced her to mascara. She'd always known she wanted to be a rockstar, and was with me at Sesliburg University getting her degree in music before she hit Los Angeles to make it big time.

I'd always hoped that one day I would have even a tenth of her ambition. But for now, I was content on getting by being a "daddy's girl" and getting by by being pretty.

If Nicole couldn't keep up with her rent, then I was screwed. Dad would pull out the 'I'm so disappointed in you' act, blame me for her anger management issues, state that i'm a bad influence for not having a job of my own, and then declare that it's unfair of her to be working her way through school while all I do is sit on my ass and have things handed to me.

"That's so sweet of you to care so much about her," I would say. "Are you offering to help her out? She doesn't come from a very financially stable family Daddy, and I know she would appreciate your added income."

No, calling Daddy would not be an option. For the second those words come out of my mouth, he'd called me a spoiled brat, find out about me flunking out of English class, and then cut off my Visa.

"Benny's looking for a new waitress!" I blurted out finally, dropping my oversized purse onto the coffee table. Nicole was lounging on the sofa, pen in hand as she scribbled down potentially angry lyrics about hating the world and all who inhabit it.

"I heard you trip in the hallway," she said without looking up. "Break a stiletto?"

"Bite your tongue!" I snapped. "Your gonna jinx me, and these are my favorite heels!" Afraid that she _had_ actually just cursed me and doomed my heels, I slid off the red pumps I was wearing and pushed them aside.

"What'd you trip on?" she asked, setting her notebook aside. Music flooded through the speakers after she grabbed the remote control for the radio. It was a familiar song, with a slow acoustic tune to words I would never remember.

"There's a box in the hallway," I retorted, sliding into a comfy chair across from her. "Oh, i'm fine, thanks for asking. Not like I could have potentially broken my neck or something. Honestly, we should have a word with the landlord about how dangerous it is to leave things lying in the halls-"

"Ever come to think it's a package for us, genius?" she asked, rising to head towards our front door. I ignored her as she dragged the hideous brown box into the room, wondering how temporary her spell of unemployment would be. Surely our friend Benny would hire her, wouldn't he? While Nicole wasn't the friendliest person there was with some people, she was definitely a hard worker. She had to be, of course, she didn't come from a background as priveleged as my own.

My father is a best-selling author: Frank Saunders. I've never read any of his books (as I don't enjoy reading), but from what i've been told they're very entertaining. Some sort of cop book or something, I don't know. He says he write's mystery, and is always dropping off rough drafts on my desk back home. I tell them I read them, say "Oh my gosh, that was amazing! I totally never saw that coming!", and we're all happy. I know I should put in some effort and give him an honest opinion, but reading bores me and I think it would hurt Daddy's feelings if I told him he was super boring.

"What's the time?" Nicole asked me, tearing the tape off of the cardboard box. I shrugged, not bothering to look up at the clock. I wouldn't have been able to see it anyway as i'd forgotten my contacts that morning. "This is yours, by the way."

An envelope was sat down in front of me before my best friend started unpacking an assortment of candles and placing them around the apartment.

Candles? Seriously?

"You ordered candles off the internet or something?" I asked, mildly uninterested. Without giving it a second though, I tore open the envelope that had my name neatly scribbled on the front of it and began to read.

_It wouldn't kill you to do something other than sit around and look pretty, Hannah. Start lighting the damn candles or not only will you be tripping over the box they came in, but also over your own two feet. _

"Cute, Nik Nak." I told her, rolling my eyes. Nicole arched an eyebrow in my direction while I grabbed a lighter from my purse.

"No idea what you mean," she responded. "It's one of our neighbors, ya know. Fiona told me about him; She says that when he leaves little messages and gifts like this to just go with it."

Right, because i'm _all _about listening to potentially psychotic strangers who leave anonymous notes and gifts where an innocent passerby can trip on them in hallways. Seems like a very upstanding gentleman.

I grabbed a tall white candle that Nicole had set down, smelling it on instinct. Vanilla: very nice. Without giving it a second thought, I lit it.

"You got a note too?" I asked. Nicole pushed it in my direction, and I picked it up. "7:45? What's this mean?"

She shrugged, looking at the clock: "I guess we'll find out in a few minutes, won't we?"

I never answered, thinking to myself as I went among my task. Maybe I _should _call my dad about this whole 'rent' situation. I know what he'll say though: that if i'm so interested in helping Nicole out, that _I _should be the one to help out with the finances instead of him.

That meant that i'd have to join the working class. Is that a risk i'm really willing to take though?

The lights went out. I jumped out of surprise, and reached out for the wall to hold onto as I made my way to another candle to light.

"Great," Nicole said. "Not only are we gonna potentially lose this place if I don't get another job ASAP, but we're also losing our own personal psychic who can warn us of upcoming disasters."

I'll start looking for a job in the morning.


End file.
